Of the Sacrifice
by Knightfall1138
Summary: A Farewell to a Knight of the Republic.  KotOR 1 Short
1. The Cage

Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic

* * *

Of the Sacrifice

* * *

Most of all, I remember his eyes. The gentle ferocity behind them, the determination, and how even against overwhelming odds, they did not shy away from his mission—me.

But you must understand that I had everything under control. Second-rate thugs of a decaying backwater like Taris don't make for the most formidable of captors. Indeed, if I hadn't only just pulled myself from the mangled wreckage of an escape pod, I would have been able to speed along my escape; but as it happened: I was in no condition to do anything but focus on my wounds, heal them through the Force as best as I could.

What I was able to glean from my trance kept me very entertained during my brief imprisonment. The planet had just been placed under martial law, and a bounty was posted on all remaining survivors of the Republic fleet, which was still burning up in the atmosphere, fragments at a time. The credits had nearly every gang from the ground to the stratosphere scouring the Undercity for any trace of Republic soldiers.

Before they found me, they were able to find two poor souls trapped in their pod only a mile from my crash site. The gangs stole them away and turned in three bodies to the Sith patrols—assuming they found an extra uniform in the pod and used one of their own to fill it; I don't know how else they could've made three from two.

It wasn't long before it was my turn. As I said, I was in no condition to put up much of a fight, not that they expected one from a broken girl who'd just fallen from the sky. They never quite figured out that I was a Jedi, even with my lightsaber in their possession. They thought it was some kind of new-age hydrospanner.

Backwater. Right.

I lay unconscious in the Black Vulkar base for several hours, hearing their rabble and expletives from a place in my mind. They just couldn't quite figure out what to do with me, since it appeared I was worth more to them alive and in their possession than with the Sith.

The hours continued to pass, though they only seemed as seconds in my state. Eventually, I was placed in a cage and offered up as a prize in the upcoming swoop race. Why? Even now, I cannot quite understand it. The will of the Force falls in line with my ironic sense of humor very often.

There was more shouting. More bickering over the race and its grand prize, yours truly. I must admit, to be fought over for so long, it did wonders for my ego.

When the race finally began, time began to catch up to me. Voices slowed to a nominal tenor and I could feel air enter my lungs in greater amounts, as foul and hearty as it was. By the time my eyes finally fluttered open, the race was over, and its winner stood on the other side of my cage.

It was an interesting feeling: waking to find the former Dark Lord of the Sith arguing with the Black Vulkar leader over my freedom. In the months following his return to Republic Space, negotiation never once entered the equation as entire worlds burned under his command. As entire civilizations were toppled and stripped and enslaved.

But on the swoop track, he pointed his finger at the gangleader. "You're a damn liar, Brejik!"

As silly as it sounds, I had once hoped to hear such things. There were dreams, so many of them, of the many places we'd see when we eventually traveled the galaxy together. We would descend upon a planet, falling from the stars, and exact justice and peace where they were needed most. We were the Keepers, or so we were told, of a future that would shine brighter than any sun and last even longer than one could burn.

We were asked to believe in peace, and we did so willingly. For as long as we could.

In another life, we might live out the lives we had always planned, bring the dreams we shared into reality. There were so many chances this time around, but not enough it seems. Sometimes, I wish I had joined him and let him take me to the outer regions of space where he dwelled so long in darkness. It would have been something...

We would have been together, at least. And sometimes: I convince myself that would have been enough.

Back on the swoop track, he saw me open my eyes and I observed something in him that looked like relief. It could have just as easily been surprise, but I'd like to believe that some spark of what he use to be still yet endured, and for that shred of a moment we were right where we'd always wanted to be:

Staring down injustice on a world that had grown weak from never seeing the light. Ready to help the helpless. Stalwart in our duty as Keepers of the Peace.

Yes, I like to believe that, for I've seen the workings of the Force with my own eyes. As I said, I've seen its sense of humor.

When all seemed to be at its darkest: Revan and I, we fell from the stars together.

* * *

_Author's Note: This is a companion piece to "Of the Fall" by **Mister Buch**. These will collectively be our "eulogy" for the Revan that both knew in our own way, and to the story and characters who never came back. Brace yourself for excessive sentimentality. =)_


	2. The Cantina

If you're a Mandalorian, you know of Revan. There are some colonies on the Outer Rim where they look to the Sith Lord as a god: a manifestation of the courage and cold, hard calculation that every crusader, old or young, living or dead, have always aspired to. And you know what? I can't say I blame them. I've known the man for several weeks now, and it's easy to forget that he's only human.

There were jokes around our camps during the Crusade that implied: if you've killed one human, you know how to kill the rest. They don't say that anymore.

If you asked me now when I first met Revan, I'd say we were informally introduced at the Battle of Malachor Five. You get to know someone, inside and out, by watching how they make war. Revan was, for lack of any simpler term, _ruthless_.

We fought on the ground, in the air, and in orbit, and we were beaten back at each level. His starships were given orders to crash directly into our ranks on the ground if they were beyond saving; his Jedi would make suicide runs at our capital ships, killing captains and dialing in the self-destruct commands without even trying to escape; his soldiers fought as though they had no place to retreat. And maybe they didn't.

We fell at Malachor, but what a hell of a way to go out.

But the first time I met the man you _think_ is Revan was on Taris just before Malak glassed the whole damn place into stardust. Our meeting was brief, I was working, but he made a decent impression. The way he and his friend moved, the way they jumped at every motion, you could tell they were with the Republic. You know these things after warring against them for so long.

Didn't talk, but I could tell things on Taris were gonna get worse before they got better. I needed an out, and we had the Hawk, I just needed someone reliable who could help me "liberate" the thing. Someone who wouldn't shoot me in the back at the wrong time. After Revan won that swoop race and wiped out the Vulkars' command structure within a few minutes, I knew I had the right guy.

Things took off quickly after that.

After breaking through the Sith blockade, we ended up on Dantooine. Wouldn't have been my first choice, but the Jedi woman thought she was in control. I emphasize _thought_. She made a lot of decisions, said a lot of things, tried to order everyone around. Pathetic. Everyone—the Twi'lek, the pilot, the Wookiee (hell, even the protocol droid)—including myself, looked to Revan to get us to where we needed to go. If there was one thing I could say about him then, it was that he was wise to things. One of the first people who've taken command that I didn't want to gun down where he sat.

He knew the score. He knew we wouldn't be safe anywhere for long, which is more than what I can say for the Jedi.

At the Academy, Revan was taken in as a learner. Not quite sure how that came about. Him and the female, Bastila, were already giving looks to each other. The pilot, Onasi, told me that he'd overheard some of the Jedi talking about a Force bond between Revan and Bastila. Human mating rituals are so pathetic.

Our weeks on Dantooine passed at a slow crawl. I must have broken down, cleaned, and reassembled my rifle a thousand times by the time Revan was ready to construct his lightsaber. I'm just grateful that some of what he used to be was still rattling around in his head or else we probably would've been stuck there for years.

I'll never understand the Jedi. So complacent, so concerned with things that can go unnoticed for a lifetime. Maybe things like the Force have gone unnoticed for a reason. The time we spent there just made me wonder even harder how we lost the war in the first place. Had I been so inclined, I probably could've wiped out half the Enclave before someone even had a chance at stopping me.

They're blind. Choosing to cleave to the old ways and preach peace and serenity while the rest of the galaxy falls apart. One day in the Undercity, and they'd swear their allegiance to the Beks that day. For as blind as Gadon was, he saw the Republic, the galaxy, life for what it really was. Loss of sight is one thing, loss of perspective is something else entirely.

Dantooine. I won't miss it. Flocks of birds and krayt dragons and old men trying to convince themselves that they still have a place in the galaxy. Someday, someone will show them that pretty words aren't enough to safeguard their supposed legacy. I just hope that when that time comes, I'll have a front row seat.


	3. The Shop

Contemplation: Is it possible to kill that which is already dead?

Logic denotes that this is not possible. Logic, and a few choice field tests of my own. Over the course of our travels throughout that particular sector of the Outer Rim, there seemed to be a surplus of Sith corpses where ever we departed. It would appease my finely-calibrated sense of hubris to say that I helped in the making of those corpses. Memories.

Conclusion: Then if it is not possible to kill that which is already dead, then perhaps that is the reason why my master forged on for as long as he did. Unless, of course, the reports of his death were greatly exaggerated.

He did behave like a specter ought to. At that point in time, the subroutines that contained the memories from my, hmm, former profession were still locked down. I did not see Master Revan standing in front of me that day in Yuka Laka's pustule of a shop in Anchorhead; all I saw was another meatbag, staring me down, buying me for an insulting price because he lacked even the basic skills I have allocated in my operating system.

Recitation: Such are the woes of being of a superior make and model.

Amendment: That's, ah, not to say he continued to appear as such. Certainly not. Nooo. He proved himself to be a meatbag of exceptional talent that very same day, which is more than I can say for my...former masters. May they rest in peace.

They're dead. Very dead.

Recollection: Of course, Master Revan. Our first mission together made Yuka Laka's shop seem rather exciting by comparison. Negotiating with the Tuskens. About as pointless as...well...negotiating. I had hoped that Master would give me a chance to down at least a few of them, but he was quite insistent that we resort to—

Revulsion: _Diplomacy._

It's been proven—I proved it—that a single shot can end a conflict. A single shot, yes; preferably shot from up wind, from a z-223 Widowmaker with a reactive scope, from a decent vantage point so that I can watch people scatter and panic and shoot up into the air for a while...

Continuation: But that's neither here nor there nor up wind. The point being that I could've done something very similar there in the Tusken camp. Lives were at stake, after all, and I understand that to be a very precious thing to people like my master. But he chose instead to mince words—my words, of course; can't expect everyone to be competent linguists, can you?

Such are the woes.

Resignation: Ah, it was a disappointing time. Tusken negotiations can be quite volatile, even on their better days. An equivalent situation would be to dance on the edge of a sarlacc pit with one leg missing. I was hoping for something to go just a little wrong, and the odds were certainly on my side.

Alas, my master defied those odds time and time again.

Admiration: Though I don't think much of diplomats, Master Revan displayed a remarkable capacity for saying just the right thing. With a 2% chance of a violent reaction on the part of the Tuskens, and a 1% margin of error, my master was able to talk his way out hostilities, and actually convince the sand people to cease their attacks on the Czerka sandcrawlers and move their camp elsewhere.

A remarkable achievement, I must say. Not because I was glad of the lack of bloodshed, but statistical anomalies are to be enjoyed when they present themselves, which can be all too rare.

Conclusion: With the, ugh, diplomacy at an end and a map to our destination firmly in hand, we were able to continue my master's quest. I may have been disappointed and frustrated at the time, but things quickly improved. Luckily, there is no shortage of people and things that want Master Revan dead. I was all too happy to volunteer my services.

Analysis: There are certain times when I question the logic of the universe. I've heard the Jedi Bastila remark that the Force has a sense of humor. Whether this is true or not is irrelevant, but it's just about the only way I can describe the adventures of my master, Darth Revan.

He was my creator, you see: my point of origin. I fulfilled his works on the battlefield with the efficiency worthy of him, and the galaxy trembled in fear of his warpath. Eventually, I failed him, and learning of the meatbag Malak's betrayal only worsened my condition. I had owners afterward, but they were not my masters. I was given tasks, but they were not my mission.

The day my memory banks unlocked, and I realized that the man I had been traveling with was my master, my creator—thought long dead by the people who once feared him—was a startling event.

Analysis: The odds of the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ surviving for as long as we had, fighting against a Sith Lord, his armada, and the various miscreants we had angered along the way, were astronomical and certainly not in our favor. The odds of Revan talking his way out of the Tusken dilemma were, again, against us. And having my master stumble into that specific shop on that specific world, out of the tens of thousands in the galaxy, only to bring me back into his possession...

Conclusion: The universe is an astonishing place.

Repetition: But that was some time ago. As the old saying goes, all things must end. Even stars burn out. I don't know where my master has gone, when or even if he'll come back, or why he left her behind. He was restless in those days before he departed, his thoughts occupied by something he wasn't prepared to deal with. I remember him retaining a similar expression during his time as Dark Lord.

Advisory: You have me at a disadvantage. I've told you everything you wanted to know because even if your intentions are ill, I've found that forcing my master from his path will be a difficult task, for anyone. If you somehow manage to do what I could not, if you should find him, give him my regards. Tell him that I await his return, and that patience won't be an issue.

Meatbag.

[_Memory deleted._]


	4. The Grove

We are all tested.

I feel this is the one truth in life that I was always meant to find, but could never truly know until my travels with Revan. That day on Dantooine, in the grove near the Enclave, he showed me that the dark side can give you exactly what you want—but when does anyone actually get such a thing?

There is just as much power in the light, and that promise is what released me from my self-imposed prison. But even that was an illusion. I desired more power, that was all. Revan defeated me in combat, after I had spent days giving every inch of myself over to the dark side of the Force. He defeated me, only a few days a padawan.

He convinced me that the power of the darkness is a false one, that it is a means to its own rotten end.

I had not even killed my master as I thought I had. In the end, I was a spoiled girl who had only succeeded in brooding. I was tested, despite everything, and I would like to think that I passed the test. Eventually.

By the time we reached the Rakatan homeworld, Revan had been living in the shadow of his past for several days. He was irritable and kept to himself when he could. He might have left us all back on the ship, but he could not save Bastila by himself. He was glad to see that we volunteered.

I thought he had been tested enough by then. But I knew nothing. We found Bastila in the temple, free of Malak's clutches, the noxious haze of the dark side surrounding all that she was. And in that moment, I prepared myself for death.

How can you ask someone to choose between love and duty? It is the foulest choice of all. Love is all that we aspire to find and create, but duty keeps the heart pure. To live without one or both is a death sentence. That is what Bastila offered him on that platform, as she acted against all that her and Revan had created together: she offered him the slowest death imaginable.

The galaxy was not at stake when my love offered me a similar choice all those years past, but I know the dangers of it. I still remember my heart breaking in my chest when I told him I would be staying with the Jedi, when I watched him disappear into the night forever. There is not much I would not give to avoid such a decision again. I wondered if Revan would give us up to do the same, and if our lives would be forfeit because of it.

His answer was not immediate. He stared into Bastila's colorless eyes. He showed the defeat of a man who was too late save his friend; the sadness of one who had lost his love; the anger toward Malak for all that he had left in ruin; but most of all, the determination of a Jedi Knight who had not yet given up.

"The Dark Lord Revan is dead, Bastila," he said. "I am a servant of the light now."

Atop the Rakata Temple, the galaxy was saved by one choice alone. We are all tested, but never to the extent that Revan was that day.

With the lives of millions in his hands, faced with losing his one true love to the slow fall of the dark side, Revan made a choice that was not a choice. In the conflict of love and duty, he chose to die fighting for both.

I do not think I have to tell you, but sometimes it can work out for the best.


	5. The Waiting

What bothers me the most is that he never said goodbye. The last night we were together was at a Republic station on a world I'd never heard of before. Deralia was its name. There was nothing very special about it; red sands and cliffs as far as the eye could see. The winds were terribly harsh at random times, there were flash floods only miles away from us. Lightning crashed up in the mountains at all times of the day, and it was even worse at night.

Still, nothing special. But Revan, he was very taken by it. He didn't say much, hardly even acknowledged me when I was by his side. He held my hand tight, but not much else.

There were times when the duststorms would force the station to seal itself up. During one of those lockdowns, I could swear Revan had ignored the sirens and stayed outside. I found him sometime after the storm was over. He had just taken a shower, and he grinned at me in that wry manner he could pull off so well. But the smile didn't linger. There was something in his eyes that I didn't want to see. I know now that he was in pain.

I should've seen it. I didn't let myself.

The Battle of the Star Forge changed so many things. He pulled me back from the darkness that day, knowing he might be giving up his life, the lives of his friends, and dooming the Republic itself. But he found me.

The funny thing was that as I fought for words to say to him, as I sat there feeling the veil of the dark side lifting, he was smiling out of pure joy, and he had mouthed the words, "Thank you." There were tears in his eyes.

I couldn't quite understand what he'd meant by that, but hindsight offers a clearer way to look at things. Our roles were once reversed, you see. On the bridge of his capital ship, I fought to save Darth Revan's life. By comparison, my corruption had been nowhere near as rooted as his. He'd been gone for a very long time. It was only by the mercy of the Force that I was able to bring him back from death, reborn in the light.

He thanked me on the Star Forge.

That night, we all shared a meal. Mission and Zalbaar, Jolee and Juhani, Carth and Dustil, with the droids, Tee-Three and Aitch Kay, standing dutifully nearby, hurling obscenities at each other for some reason or another. Canderous would've been there, as well, but he'd left the week before, telling us all that he had to find something he thought he'd lost.

Jolee got our attention by rapping his fists on the table, then dove into a story about a boy and a snake that would last the rest of the night. As usual, it didn't make a bit of sense, but Juhani, Mission, and Zalbaar seemed perfectly content with listening to the whole thing. Meanwhile, Carth and Dustil had ducked out into the hall to do some more catching up. Dustil was leaving for the Republic Academy soon, and Carth wanted as much time with his son as possible.

But Carth wasn't kidding anyone. He was conveniently offered an instructor's position at the academy the same day Dustil shipped out. Admiral Onasi was never very subtle.

Mission and Zalbaar eventually disappeared. I'd heard that they'd been snooping around the restricted areas, and somehow managed to hack a keypad that only the senior officers knew the codes to. None of the guards wanted to be the one to arrest the Heroes of the Ebon Hawk, so the friends were given frequent warnings and not much else. This only encouraged them to continue misbehaving, of course.

Jolee left to take a walk under the stars, with Juhani offering to hear more of his stories. I had never seen the old man so happy before, as if he'd been waiting for someone to make such an offer his entire life. The laugh from that man, I admit, it was infectious. He clapped Juhani on the shoulder and led her outside, saying, "Girl, have I ever told you the story of Andor Vex? Oh, you'll get a kick out of this one..."

With the droids still arguing, Revan and I decided we should get some time to ourselves, too. We returned to our room and we lay together with the starlight shining in brighter than I'd ever seen. He whispered things to me, but I didn't hear him. The one night when I let a good moment get away from me.

I fell asleep in his arms—and I woke up alone.

By midday, the entire station was looking for Revan, but there was no sign of him. The _Ebon Hawk_ was still docked and absolutely no one had seen him even leave our room. Not even Aitch Kay, who had taken it upon himself to threaten and interrogate every soldier on the base.

By nightfall, we finally discovered that one of the long-range survey vessels had disappeared, and there was no reason why it should have been gone. I couldn't feel him through the Force. I knew that he had left us.

Why? I can never be certain. Jolee seems to think that Revan's memories had returned, and maybe he'd discovered something that he couldn't rightly ignore. It's as good an explanation as any.

Whatever the reason, I wish he'd confided in me. Maybe he wanted to. I'd like to think he didn't tell me where he was going because he knew that I'd follow him. And you know what? I would. In a heartbeat. I still would.

It's been almost eight years since he left. I've heard not a word nor whisper about him. Occasionally, you hear rumors of a man on the edge of space, in places where very few Humans have ever been seen. It could be anyone. A smuggler thrown off course, a brave explorer searching for the unknown.

But something through the Force gives me the strength to press on. A familiar feeling of comfort and longing, that calmly tells me that even if I never look upon Revan's face again, we'll still be together one day. Falling together, when all things are ended.

—

_And he left the __Ebon Hawk__ and all its machines behind, for he knew he would not need them. And, like you, he knew he must leave all loves behind as well, no matter how deeply one cares for them._

_It would have helped had he made her understand. But she was always strong-willed, that one, and did not understand war as Revan did._

_The difference between a fall and a sacrifice is sometimes difficult, but I feel that Revan understood that difference, more than anyone knew._


End file.
